I woke up this morning having dreamt of my ex.
In my dream, I'd been visiting him in his new house. He looked good, happy.
I began rooting through a closet there, looking for something and noted his wife has used my sewing machine to make things that were nicer, more creative than I've ever made. She'd done some mini quilts/wallhangings that were so cute I wanted them for myself. She'd taken some fine yarn I'd left and crocheted beautiful, lacy edging onto small pillows and handkerchiefs.
Yeah, I can see the obvious. He'd turned into a rather crap husband with me and she'd taken my rejects and made wonderful things of them - including him. In the dream.
I don't know if that's really true of him now. It could be, to give them all credit, but I honestly doubt it.
Thing is, it pisses me off to wake feeling jealous and missing him. Why would my head fuck me over like that? I don't feel those things in my waking hours.
Guess I should just be grateful. Lou told me she'd dreamt of a group of people, feeding feet first, a live man to a crocodile!